


The Kraken

by EAI



Series: A Sigh Escapes From Heaven [1]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Pacts, Canon Compliant, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology References, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-01-29 13:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21410989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EAI/pseuds/EAI
Summary: the kraken: (/ˈkrɑːkən/)i. a legendary sea monster that dwells and terrorizes sailors.ii. a deadly hybrid of dysphoria and death.Terror Bingo word: INK
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier & Thomas Jopson, Thomas Jopson & Sgt Solomon Tozer, Thomas Jopson/Lt Edward Little
Series: A Sigh Escapes From Heaven [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057562
Comments: 13
Kudos: 25





	1. List of Characters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I've created three original characters, and I swear their existence don't take up most of the story. They're just there for plot-purposes. And because I need to visualize the original characters (and unseen canon-characters) I'm working on, I've chosen a few of my favorite actors, actresses and models as my personal reference! Out of pure excitement, I'm sharing it with you guys but you are welcome to visualize whomever you want. 
> 
> Also, umm, spoiler alert?
> 
> Except the GIFs of our three main babes, the JPEGs are not mine. I don't take credits for them.

**T H E K R A K E N **

**Edward Little **//** Thomas Jopson **//** Solomon Tozer**

**William Jopson **//** Sarah Jopson, née Goodfellow **// **Elisabeth Montgomery**

**Noël Marchal **//** Asier**

**Wya**

**N E K A R K E H T**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> William Jopson: Jack Huston
> 
> Sarah Jopson, née Goodfellow: Cate Blanchett
> 
> Elisabeth Montgomery [also known as, in the book canon, Elisabeth Jopson. Canon's maiden-surname is unavailable, so I just thought of one for her]: Daria Sidorchuk
> 
> Nöel Marchal: Oscar Isaac
> 
> Asier: Pedro Pascal
> 
> Wya: Angela Bassett


	2. Prologue Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 22/12/2019
> 
> Unbeta'd.

_—when you board that ship, my darling… leave all your worries, all your sadness behind. This is an opportunity not to be missed! Need not worry about me or Robbie, do you understand? Out there, you’ll see the world’s greatest gems, trinkets that you’ve never heard from fairy tales. So you can tell your grand stories to us upon your return… my son, my darling boy, I pray that God will bring you back to my arms safely._

In September 1839, both HMS Erebus and Terror departed from Chatham with a checklist of ambitious goals where they would begin their noble, scientific expedition, spearheaded by Sir James Ross and alongside him, Captain Francis Crozier, on the search for the existence of the southern continent. Thomas Jopson – one of the youngest crewmen onboard Terror – was up on deck like many others, staring back longingly at the busy dockyard where he knew his mother was still proudly watching. She would stand there, all alone and in pain, maybe until the horizon took him farther away from her.

This was his first sail after all, his first journey away from home.

He felt rootless, yearning to turn and run back to his mother.

But he decided, no matter how uncertain he actually felt, that he would do exactly what she taught him, had asked of him – _“Stand proud on your feet, Thomas. Be strong, gentle and impartial like you always are. Men, rich and poor alike, will trample you down the very moment their moral integrities disappear. Mind them, if you will, but eventually you only have your own skin to look after.”_

_“It is as if you spoke from experience, Mum.”_

_“Oh, Thomas… out there is another world, a world away from prying eyes. No one has ever reached to where you will be heading. I’m certain the unchartered corners of the earth are… stormy. Disasters tend to lure, persuade sailors that wade through their unknown territories. I will never know what fate has planned for you, my dear, if she treats you well. I only wish, I pray, that she protects you from everything.” _

_“Wouldn’t that make her selfish? That she only protects me and no one else?”_

_“Fate has never been selfish. I am, because I refuse to lose you.”_

_“I can stay and take care of you...”_

_“Can you really, Thomas? Do you want to be grounded here in London forever?”_

Thomas understood the danger that came with the seas, realized the severity of his situation and that he would never get an opportunity like this ever again. His mother was animated the very morning he told her the good news. Then she shared the secret to Josephine, their kind neighbor, who then sent the word out to the rest of the neighborhood. When the departure date was around the corner, his mother packed all his necessities and proudly smoothed down his new navy clothes; lovingly pinched his cheeks when Thomas suddenly gave her the tickets he originally bought for him and Elisabeth Montgomery for tomorrow’s circus show, and gave him the knitted scarf she just finished.

_“Oh, look at how the color makes your eyes pop! Worth every penny.” _

_“The yarn looks – feels – expensive. Did you buy it at the usual store?”_

_“Does it matter? You look mesmerizing in it, Thomas. Enjoy the gift.”_

_“Gift?”_

_“For your birthday, my sweet boy. I’m terribly sorry that I will have to miss it, for many a time until you’re finally home.”_

He clutched on the soft, celeste blue scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, fondly remembering how the lightness of the color reminded his mother of his eyes – where his emotions were visible and mercurial as the sky. Thomas felt the surge of nervousness at the thought of not being able to step on land for months, who didn’t, but he would have courage. He survived the rough and brutal streets of London for eighteen years, surely he would survive this.

“—as my steward, Jopson, you’ll carry a handful lot of responsibilities. Other than attending to my needs, you’ll manage over the officers’ meals. In charge of our provisions, overseeing Mr. Diggle. Sure you can manage all of that?” Captain Crozier asked him later that day, when Thomas assisted him with his greatcoat. He didn’t look nor sound doubtful, perhaps he was just concerned because Thomas was the youngest steward he ever worked with.

“Also to maintain the cleanliness of the great cabin, sir, and to be absolutely discreet,” Thomas added with a small tug of a smile, daring his eyes to look at the captain’s suddenly amused ones. He was told many times by the Lords from the Admiralty about discretion during his training, where they emphasized the importance of the word. How he was the wall that kept the captain from his crew and vice versa. And whatever the captain told him, be it government secrets or personal, he would tell no one. He would walk amongst lower men, removed from them, carrying secrets in his own Pandora box.

“I’ll manage, sir, I have been doing almost the same all my life.”

“Very good,” Captain Crozier nodded, seemingly impressed. And with a wrinkled smile, he put out a hand and said, “Let me be the first to say – welcome aboard Terror, Jopson. You’ll fit nicely here.”

He shook the captain’s hand, elated to be acknowledged. “Thank you, sir.”

If Thomas ever knew his father, he hoped his old man would be just like Captain Crozier.

And so he began his share of tasks onboard Terror. His position was exceptional and awkward, to put it simply, as he would only answer to the beck and calls of the captain, and sometimes the lieutenants if he was terribly needed. He, the other stewards and Mr. Diggle stood on a different rostrum of their own, belonged to neither the crew, the marines nor the officers. And Thomas was humbled by the amount of respect he received from his fellow stewards, despite his age.

But there came Mr. Diggle who enjoyed teasing him for his lack of experience onboard a floating, wooden vessel.

“—if you feel the need to toss up your meal, my boy, do it out here. My workplace is a temple!” Mr. Diggle warned him with total mirth written on his face, slapping his back none too gently with his huge hand. “Don’t you worry, Jopson, the embarrassment will go away much sooner than you realize.”

Thomas, who was bent over the wooden railing, nauseous with hot and cold flashes consuming his entire body, groaned weakly.

“…how soon?”

“Maybe until you’ve changed your ruined clothes and washed your face,” the cook laughed.

“You’ll adjust to it eventually,” Dr. MacDonald assured him, handing him a cup of awful-smelling crushed herbs and ginger mixed in hot water.

Nonetheless, Mr. Diggle was a good friend and a teacher.

Months into their journey and in between moments of washing and mending the captain’s clothes; following short orders from the captain and the lieutenants, standing still in the shadows or keeping sentry during command meetings, overseeing the delicious inventions Mr. Diggle came up for the day, cleaning the great cabin and keeping records of their storage, Thomas would find himself up on deck, enjoying the cool breeze. The other young sailors, green-eyed like him, would beckon him over, and they would delight themselves with beautiful sightings of jumping dolphins.

“Look! They’re called bottlenose dolphins! Da said they’re good omens to us poor bastards!”

“Mother Mary, they’re singing!”

Thomas beamed when the pod of dolphins whistled and clicked, creating an enchanting melody he never heard before. “They’re beautiful.”

“Jopson’s in love! Someone tell Mr. Diggle!”

“You have a girl waiting for you at home, don’t you, Jopson?”

“Does that mean you’re cheating on her?”

Thomas shied away from the questions, curving the tiniest smile instead as he continued watching the dolphins in pure wonderment. Elisabeth was the most beautiful and compassionate girl whom he had the privilege to be in love with, but they were too young for eternal commitment and Thomas was struggling with his secret attractions to men. Their relationship was bound to end either way, and so they parted as good friends, in which suited them best.

“Oh, he’s being secretive!”

“What’s she like? Tell us!”

“Keep on wondering, I’m not telling you anything.”

“Please tell us, Jopson! Us eligible bachelors are desperately in need of specific guidelines on how to woo women with great bosoms!”

It was all fun, educational thrills and great moments spared gaily. Until one afternoon, their ship was attacked.

Thomas was lunged against the bookcase when Terror suddenly rocked to the side, brass teapot, the captain’s cup and saucer clattered to the floorboards. His frightened eyes dragged over to the captain, who was equally disturbed as him. Then Lieutenant McMurdo dashed into the great cabin, wheezing as he held a sharp harpoon in his hands.

“—it’s a sperm whale, sir!”

“Oh, Christ!”

Captain Crozier rushed into his greatcoat, ignoring his tea soaked vest as he trudged out of the cabin, hurrying after the lieutenant. “Stay here, Jopson. These whales are fickle, creatures.”

He swallowed down his newfound fear as he was left alone in the cabin, the booming blasts of cannons propelling harpoons echoed through the silence, followed by the shouts of men up on deck. With haste, Thomas scampered over to the windows and watched little of what he could. He caught a few glances of the whale, struck by a few lines, but it was impossibly too large for such a daring creature.

Its skin was too dark, rough and stone-like. Its fins, if he saw them right, were long and swift. No blowhole. He could see its eye, maybe, ominous and glowing brighter than the glitters of the sun’s reflection on the water.

Was it really a whale?

The danger died down not long after, the whale disappeared out of sight much to the chagrin of both captains. Most of the men believed and rejoiced that they had killed it, no animals could survive with that much injuries and losing so much blood. Later that night, during the last dogwatch, Captain Crozier was broiling with unsettled adrenaline that he decided to avoid sleep and took his worries above. Thomas, concerned for the captain’s health, came along to accompany him. It was the least he could do.

“Have you hunted whales before, sir?” he asked, genuinely curious, as he bundled his mother’s scarf around his neck.

The captain nodded with a heavy sigh, heading for the quarterdeck where a lone marine stood on watch. “I have, yes, not too long ago. Caught a few weighing more than one hundred tons. But I’m embarrassed to admit I haven’t encountered anything like today.”

He understood Captain Crozier’s fear a little too much, he realized. “It is a little daunting, sir, to know there are gigantic creatures lurking underwater—“

—the ship lurched and tilted at the sudden impact, forcing Thomas, the captain and four other men on deck to grab hold onto the railing.

They scanned the dark sea for their perpetrator, as best as they possibly could, wary of the whale’s return when Terror finally righted. It was all still and eerie, with faded voices awakened by the shock and footsteps stomping on the boards. Thomas took a quick glance at Erebus, it seemed that her crew too, were alarmed. As the lieutenants bounded up on deck, other able-bodied seamen and marines following suit, they were caught unprepared when the ship was surrounded by rolls and curtains of smog, confusing Terror’s compass. The lanterns flickered and dimmed, the floorboards and the ship’s wooden structure groaned and creaked, water splashing and lapping, and their sails fluttering lightly.

Few of the sailors began to utter their prayers and spouted curses at voodoo witches and sirens, while some said the smog – that grew even heavier by the second – was a bad omen.

“Captain! Erebus is gone!” bellowed a harried watcher. “I’ve lost sight of it!”

“To your stations, men! Prepare the harpoons! Keep a weather eye for the whale, it may be close! Steer her carefully, Mr. Downing, we don’t want to collide with Sir Ross,” ordered Captain Crozier as he weaved through his panicked crew, hauling Thomas up to his feet. “Down below, Jopson! Get yourself to safety, quickly!”

Thomas ran for the hatch, did as he was told when the ship rocked violently once more – a great force slamming upwards against the vessel, propelling him and other seamen manning the cannons, overboard. They crashed into the water, immediately petrified by the swirls of unnatural current that sucked them deeper, crushing the seamen between intense pressure and heavy metals from the sinking cannons. In his dread, amidst the cold frenzy, Thomas caught a monstrous sight of a strange shadow latched underneath Terror and Erebus’ bodies, pulling the two ships together.

Long, dark limbs curled on each side of both ships, and attached to them was a colossal, jagged shell, a torso and a bulbous head.

With all three of its eyes already _watching_ him.

Thomas screamed, bubbles of air erupted out of his mouth, causing water to rush into his lungs. He paddled up against the fighting current and burst through the water’s surface, coughing and gasping up enough air when he heard the captain’s voice shouting for him – right before he was wrenched back into the merciless cold.

“Jopson!”

“Hard-a-port—“

“—sir, we’re barging into Erebus!”

He wondered, almost every night before he went to sleep, what would happen if only he never purchased and gave his mother those tickets for the circus? Surely, his mother would not be in pain, Robbie would not blame himself for her injury. Really, it was all Thomas’ fault, wasn’t it? All because he and Elisabeth were no longer together and the east seating area happened to be much cheaper than the other three. There were no casualties, or so they told him, many were injured but no one suffered his mother’s wound.

Her pain was akin to the feeling of desperation and frustration for being absolutely hopeless.

Her stubbornness forced him to allow her to keep her damaged hand, charging him to spend less of a quarter of his pay for her future, weekly purchases of laudanum. It was the only way, so she would not have to will through the intense pain and uselessness of her limb.

_“—I can stay and take care of you.”_

_“Can you really, Thomas? Do you want to be grounded here in London forever?”_

_“But I can’t leave you, Mum.”_

_“And I don’t want to let you go. But my darling boy, if you stay, you’ll never get a good fortune like this ever again. I don’t want you here in London wasting your life away, you’re much better out there.”_

He found a hint of hysteric desperation in her voice. Why did she let him go, in all honesty, if she didn’t want to lose him?

What was really out here that she believed he could be of value to? 

Thomas left for the sea because he listened to his mother, where he should have stayed.

It all felt such a waste, to die here instead of home.

He regretted leaving, he would never see his mother again, nor his brother.

The freeze had already seeped and settled past his skin, right into his bones.

Numbing his arms and legs.

Slowing his heart.

The pressure compacting his ribs.

The beast was dragging him further down into the depths. Mindless of his fear, his sadness.

He would need air soon, and he couldn’t fight the limb that had seized and crunched his right leg, with merely his bare hands and weakening willpower.

Thomas didn’t understand what really compelled him to open his eyes that very moment, but when he did, between the diluted swirls of his blood, he was met with the burning gaze of the beast’s three auburn eyes.

Fiery and inhuman.

Nightmarish colors blazing together.

A glimpse of absolute hell.

But it soon released him, much to his surprise – his scarf was removed from around his neck, dancing out of reach along the current, following the beast as it vanished in a blink.

He might have seen a silhouette reaching out to him in the blur, a slight chill caressing his cheek, before it too dissolved into hues of white and gray.

Thomas’ eyes drifted shut, suddenly exhausted, and it was then that he felt strong hands grasping his arms, warm lips sealing over his and air rushing down his tired lungs. He couldn’t see much through the darkness, but both the kiss and the exchange of air were enough to keep him awake. He was helped up the surface then, in the safe arms of the same marine at the quarterdeck, who was brave enough to plunge himself into the cold.

“Easy, Jopson! Easy,” he muttered, keeping Thomas afloat and head above water, bringing them both closer to Terror. “Hold on to me, don’t move your leg.”

He managed, as best he could, to curl his arms around the marine’s shoulders, shivering and in agony. He was carefully hoisted back onboard, and once settled against one of the lieutenants, Captain Crozier quickly inspected, stopping over the mangled flesh of his right leg. “Bring him down to Dr. MacDonald, get his wounds tended to! You too, corporal. You’re freezing.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

It took two men to carry him safely to the doctor, with his rescuer toddling closely behind. Thomas could barely hear the cannons firing again as they placed him on the surgery table, where he trembled and lied curled on his side. Mr. Diggle appeared in the daze, fat fingers forcing his mouth open and poured hot water down his throat. It was painful, but it was a welcome change of temperature, and he needed more.

“Corporal Tozer, are you fine?” Dr. MacDonald’s voice rang through the muted air, lightly nudging at Thomas’ wounds, deciding whether his leg was inoperable or not.

“I-I think?”

“Lose the uniform, you’ll get hypothermia staying in those any longer than you already have. Mr. Diggle, help me remove Mr. Jopson’s clothing, will you? We need to mend his wounds immediately.”

“Will you be cutting the boy’s leg off? He’s too young to be a cripple.”

“He’s only ripped the flesh of his leg, no need for the saw.”

Thomas felt the quick rush of hands discarding and tearing his clothes, whimpering in pain when his wounds were laid bare and exposed. He was bundled in thick blankets then, gathered close to a warm body whose arms were locked tight around him, preventing him from thrashing. And he could only shut his eyes, bit onto the blanket and cried, bearing through the ordeal as Dr. MacDonald cleaned, fixed the torn flesh and sutured up the gashes.

“You’re doing well, Mr. Jopson, stay still as you are.”

Mr. Diggle grunted, somewhere on his right. “I swear on me ten fingers, this boy will give me a heart attack soon. I’m too young to die early.”

“He’s pale, doctor,” murmured the voice behind him, was it the corporal? “Will he be alright?”

“I’m afraid he lost too much blood, and his bodyweight is not helping. Give him extra protein and lemon juice in his meals, will you, Mr. Diggle? Else he will not recover.”

“I plan to, I’ll fatten him up quick. He’s thin as a toothpick.”

It was much later into the night, after a short and fitful rest with his leg neatly bandaged and he was safely out of danger, that the corporal brought Thomas – cladded in only his drawers and a blanket – back to his own cabin where he would recuperate and be better rested, as per Dr. MacDonald’s orders as there were others wounded. The corporal searched through the small trunk where Thomas kept his clothes, and proceeded to help him into the chosen articles. Gently maneuvering his trembling limbs, his touches were cautious and warm. It was embarrassing and he was suddenly conscious of his own body, to be exposed like this in the presence of another man, a concerned marine but a man nonetheless.

A man who happened to be quite pleasing to his eyes – despite the messy curls of hastily-dried brown hair and his tired pair of turquoise gems.

“I wish to give you my gratitude, sir, for saving my life,” Thomas wrapped the blanket around his shoulder, peering up from where he sat on his bunk and smiled at the puzzled marine.

The corporal looked extremely out of place in Thomas’ humble abode, his fresh pair of red uniform a stark contrast against the dull, chipped white paint of his cabin. But he returned a smile of his own nonetheless, slow tugs at the corner of his lips, and said, “And I apologize for…”

“For?”

He looked away, awkward. “Kissing you. I assure you I was only trying to help.”

Thomas blushed, his entire face felt hot as he remembered the kiss, how soft the corporal’s lips were, the naked warmth of the man’s body against his—

“I-It saved me, either way. You did what you had to, and I am still thankful.”

Corporal Tozer chuckled lightly, his shoulders sagged in relief as he ran a hand through his hair. “No need to thank me, you saved yourself just by holding on out there.”

“Barely,” he huffed out a laugh.

“Accept my compliment to your strong will, Jopson. But I think I’ll leave you to your rest now. You just had an unfortunately trying day.”

“Yes, perhaps you’re right,” Thomas murmured, feeling weighty with his exhaustion returning. “Good night, sir.”

The corporal paused, before he nodded his head. “Good night.”

Then he left, sliding the door closed, a poor shield from the curious eyes outside his cabin.

Thomas sighed, he would need to lie down before he keeled over to the floorboards. Careful with the burden which was now his leg, he rested back against the sweet comfort of his bed, tucking himself warmly and was deep in slumber not long after.

He woke up to the captain sitting comfortably on his desk chair, quietly reading some entries from the worn poetry book Thomas inherited from his mother. Captain Crozier smiled when he noticed that Thomas was awake, shutting the book and placed it back on his table, beside a tray of food.

“How are you feeling, Jopson?”

“Miserable, sir,” he answered truthfully with a small grin, but it morphed into a grimace when a sharp pain shot up his leg. “My apologies. I’ll get on with my duties as bright and early tomorrow.”

“Gracious, lad, they can wait,” the captain laughed. “I’ve already spoken to Dr. MacDonald about your wounds, I understand that you’ll be in great pain in a few days and I’m only here to give you my order. I want you to rest until you’re good enough to stand. And you will resume your duties as soon as I deem you’re able.”

Thomas wondered idly, “Do you mean, I get to have a sudden holiday onboard a bomb ship, sir?”

“And I will not record a thing,” the captain shared a conspiratorial smile with him, patting his arm before he stood up to leave. “Don’t miss even a meal, Thomas, that is all I ask. You’re pale enough as it is.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you.”

Alone once again, Thomas realized that he should have at least told the captain of what he saw underwater.

But he didn’t.

And they were not attacked again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ➼ The main pairing of this story is Edward/Thomas. But our handsome, brooding Lieutenant will have to come much later, I'm afraid.
> 
> ➼ AMC Thomas Jopson's birthday isn't mentioned anywhere, so I've taken the liberty to have him share Liam Garrigan's birthday - which is on October 17. Happy belated birthday, you adorable man!
> 
> ➼ Sgt Tozer was not one of the crew who joined Ross' Antarctic Expedition, but I'm loving the idea of him being friends or possibly crushing on Thomas. I just think he's a great man, only misunderstood.
> 
> ➼ Search for Clash of the Titan's Kraken and Kraken Protofactor for my inspiration of the great titan.


	3. Prologue Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This took me a long while because I was redoing, fleshing out everything (Chapter One included, so you might want to give that a read again because I added ~1000 words on it, sorry!) since I wanted this story to be less historically inaccurate as possible. The original Chapter Two was this monster of an update, but then I decided to divide them into smaller parts to make our lives much easier. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd, as usual, but do enjoy :D

“—typically, deep wounds like yours heal within a month or two, often times they come with numerous complications. Infections, further damages to the arteries or muscles and such. I see none with yours, and you’ve only taken a few drops of morphine, now that’s a great wonder,” Dr. MacDonald commented, examining the strength of the new layers of skin before he proceeded to snip the threads he used to suture Thomas’ injuries. “You’ve improved much faster than expected, and I will forever be astounded by this discovery. This is a medical mystery!”

“Yes,” he breathed out as he sat uncomfortable on top the operating table, grimacing at the feeling of scissors running against his skin. At some point, he shared the doctor’s glee but he remained suspicious, staring down his own right leg. “A mystery, indeed.”

Thomas’ wounds not only amazed the good doctor but everyone onboard both ships, where the coiling red trauma along his calf and shin and up his thigh had mended all too flawlessly and quickly in such a short amount of time. They left behind glaring scars however, blemishing his entire leg, though he could walk without a pronounced limp and for that he was truly grateful. Upon his thorough observation, he could have sworn the indented scars looked similar to clusters of crescent moons, each larger than the palm of his hand, caused definitely by the suctions of an octopus’ tentacle.

He anxiously wondered why Dr. MacDonald didn’t say anything about the obvious shapes.

Strange, really, the beast he saw was certainly a massive creature. But it could have been a trick—

“It was accidental, at best,” the doctor offered, cutting and removing the last thread on his ankle, mistaking Thomas’ silence and frown as concern for his stewardship prerequisites. Thomas might have thought of it, how he might lose his credibility with the Lords at the Admiralty, but it wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. “The Admiralty will not sack a steward for being wounded on the job.”

“But they will murder me for being careless, despite.”

“The Lords can be quite unpleasant, I agree, but they’re not heartless nor murderous. You’re too young to think of death, Jopson. You’ve a long way ahead of you.”

He sighed, drawing his legs down to the floorboards, relieved that he could finally bend and stretch his right limb. “I genuinely thought, down there? Death was already waiting for me at his door.”

“But with you surviving that fall, it was telling enough that he didn’t want you and life pulled you back.”

Life.

Then the white apparition appeared in his mind suddenly, followed by the chill that graced his skin in which had deeply ingrained in him that he shivered slightly. Thomas refused to understand what it was – might have been his own panicked hallucination, a wandering ghost of the sea or perhaps, death itself.

But the apparition bore a familiar face.

“Are you alright, Jopson?”

“Yes, yes. I’m… alright.”

As Thomas gingerly pulled up his trousers and duly dressed himself, his eyes landed on an open book on top Dr. MacDonald’s study table – where the pages showed bizarrely drawn sketches and diagrams of aquatic, amphibious and terrestrial animals and plants. And of what little he could catch, mentioned something about the possible existence of sea monsters.

“Is this yours, sir?” he asked, curious that Dr. MacDonald would own a written work about botany and zoology.

“Oh, no,” the doctor chuckled, shaking his head as he cleaned and packed his surgical kit. “Mr. Hooker from Erebus was kind enough to lend it to me. He requested that I should educate myself at least a few things about plants and animals that may or may not live in the Antarctic. I have to admit I’ve grown bored of reading that blasted book.”

Thomas reached over to take a look at the book’s front cover, it read _Systema Naturae_ by Carl Linnaeus. He wondered if Linnaeus ever wrote anything about the beast, or what he saw was simply conjured by his own imagination.

“I assume you’re curious about it?” Dr. MacDonald had his eyebrows raised, amused.

“I’m—“

“—you’re welcome to have a look at it, maybe you’ll find that book far more interesting than I ever did,” he kindly cut him off with a patient smile. “Just remember to return it back to me once you’re finished, preferably before we reach the Antarctic.”

“What about Mr. Hooker?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

Dr. MacDonald sent him off with the book then, confident he had recuperated well but advised him to be extremely careful for the next few weeks and during the coming winter, so he wouldn’t aggravate nor stretch his weaker, new skin. Thomas went directly to the captain – who, judging from the slight upturn of his lips, looked extremely relieved from his pinched slouch over the map to see him walking – and informed him that he was able enough to return and commit to his duties once more.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, standing before the captain, hiding the book behind him. “Dr. MacDonald has only just released me from his care. Apparently, all of my wounds are remedied by Mr. Diggle’s good nurturing.”

Captain Crozier chuckled, tinkering with his compass divider. “I’ll be sure to send our cook my best regards then. I’m absolutely pleased to see you up and about, but I’m not unkind to allow you to return to work so soon. Start tomorrow, enjoy the rest of today, will you?”

“I will, sir. Thank you,” Thomas pulled an appreciative smile, ducking his head and walked back to his cabin.

The men were all jolly, with nothing much to do at the fringe of the Indian Ocean but to sing and relish in the companies of their friends. He felt green with envy, longed for a friend he could easily talk to but readily accepted his fate as he was never one for rambunctious activities, and his work even required him to be impartial to everything and everyone. Thomas slipped his borrowed book in between his own personal ones on the overhead shelf and sat down on his bunk, suddenly determined to finish his fixing of Lieutenant McMurdo’s dress trousers, as he quietly listened to the joyful piece the men were currently singing. He studied the tear, his needle and thread ready to sew, remembering how the lieutenant sheepishly insisted that he must have torn them with his harpoon during the ambush – now two weeks ago – for having slept in them before he was abruptly awakened.

He learned from Mr. Diggle, after the captain’s visit the next morning that both ships suffered damages from the collision, Terror had lost three able-bodied crew and five more were injured when they countered the whale.

The whale, the _beast_. Did they really manage to kill it?

“Mind if I join you?”

Thomas looked up from his work at the figure leaning against the doorway, and was met with Corporal Tozer’s warm, deep blue eyes.

“No, of course not,” he beamed, surrendering what little space he had for his visitor. “Come in, if you don’t mind being packed in.”

“I’ve spent two weeks keeping you entertained in this cabin, I’ve long passed caring.”

Other than Captain Crozier; Dr. MacDonald; Mr. Diggle and occasionally, the young sailors whom he had acquainted onboard, Tozer was his other frequent visitor all throughout his bedridden days. He brought in Thomas’ meals whenever Mr. Diggle found himself too occupied with his chores; kept him company during slow, humdrum hours and when he finished his shifts with endless, entertaining fictions and chronicles; supported and braced him around the fo’c’sle whenever the area was empty, and to and from the sickbay and his cabin. Thomas was absolutely certain no one personally asked the corporal to aid him in his recovery, as he was no officer to be waited on, but he cherished the help nonetheless.

Also, it was surprisingly lovely to be in the man’s company.

The corporal was bereaved of his hat and musket, holding a shirt in one hand as he plopped down on Thomas’ desk chair with a slight groan. His cabin was indeed small for two grown men, Thomas realized, as Tozer accidentally bumped their knees together. But in this close proximity, he allowed himself to look and admire the corporal’s sun-kissed skin with splotches of faint red on his cheeks; his disheveled chestnut brown curls in which he was once told that the corporal tried to tame relentlessly but bitterly gave up; his soft, pink lips now chapped—

“How did it go? The doctor’s assessment of your leg, I mean.”

“O-Oh, umm,” he floundered, chuckling nervously as he attempted to focus and resume his sewing, internally cursing himself for staring wrongly. Tozer, Thomas angrily reminded himself, didn’t share his improper inclinations – why in the world would he risk the corporal finding out. He refused to lose the man’s companionship, it was the best he ever had. “Dr. MacDonald is assured that all of my wounds have healed completely, no infections, no limping. He stated that he’s never seen severe injuries recovering far too soon, and he has also eternally declared me a walking mystery.”

“I have to say I agree with him, you being a walking mystery,” Tozer replied, jerking his head to the rowdy men outside, gathering at the fo’c’sle. “The others think the same too. I heard a few of them actually wondered what caused it.”

Thomas went still, he didn’t know either. Could it be the work of the beast?

“Hey, no one is adverse to your recovery. Don’t fret over nothing.”

He forced a smile for the corporal, better than nothing, as the men outside brought out their fiddles, performing another fetching song. Thomas recalled then all the unconditional help Tozer did for him, and decided the moment was as good as any. “I’m not sure I’ve given you enough gratitude for everything you’ve done for me, I’m indebted to your kindness, sir. Mr. Diggle and Dr. MacDonald were not the only ones I should thank.”

Tozer snorted, turning his head outside to the men singing and clapping. “I see it as an absolute honor if you don’t, Jopson. You’ve got yourself and your mystery recovery to thank, as I already told you.”

“But it seems as though I’m taking advantage of you. Please, for just this once, accept my gratitude.

The corporal stared back at him for a long moment, blue gems searching, causing Thomas to unintentionally fluster until Tozer sighed, defeated. “I accept, just this once. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel indebted to me. My only wish was to help you, and I did it out of genuine concern. And you’ll have to really allow someone to do it too, eventually. In the future. Next time when you’re hurt, in which I hope there will not be a next time.”

“It’s not that I don’t allow anyone’s help, or that I’m too conceit to truly appreciate it,” Thomas lowered his head, avoiding Tozer’s gaze, fiddling with his needle and thread. “All my life, help doesn’t come easily, I’m sure you understand. No one bats even the tiniest sympathy for those who live in the slums of Marylebone. Everyone I know is fighting for their own scraps of food, so I’ve taught myself not to depend on other people. For survival’s sake. I guess I’m too used to do things alone.”

“Hmm, most of us here are from the slums. Our chances of surviving catastrophic episodes are equal to the lieutenants and the captains, hierarchy be damned. We only have each other to look after now, don’t you think? Even when we are worlds away.”

“You’re right, yes,” Thomas said. “I’ll be sure to come to you if there’s anything, I promise.”

Tozer grinned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “And I, to you.”

The men outside changed their song again to a more festive tune, followed by more laughter and cheering and fiddles furiously and constantly playing. Thomas risked another glance at the corporal in front of him, now much closer, as he stuck his needle into the dress trousers. The man seemed content and at ease, sitting with him, and it was odd because Thomas always thought himself a boring person.

“You know, apart from keeping me _entertained_, you have been spending a lot of your time with me. The other marines must be envious I’ve taken your company.”

“Them and me, although I respect them, we are not quite alike,” Tozer admitted, chuckling lightly, watching as if he was entranced at Thomas sewing the trousers. “Most of my close mates should be onboard another ship heading east to China at the moment, something about the Chinese government destroying the English trade stores.”

“Why didn’t you join them?”

“And to lose this chance to see the Antarctic? No, I’d rather go somewhere where there isn’t any blood spilled. How about you?”

“Well, this is my first commission. The opportunity was too great to overlook, and my mother wanted me to go. She said I would or will see the strange and wonderful sights England cannot spare, and it happens that the pay is good. So, here I am,” he answered with a smile, remembering fondly that he made a promise to Robbie too before he left, that he would bring back stories and trinkets – be it ridiculous or not.

“You did miss Cape of Good Hope though, the view was fantastic.”

Tozer playfully nudged his knee when Thomas pretended to be heartbroken.

Weeks before the ambush, he realized, Tozer made himself out as a sullen, private man to him, somewhat detached from the crew and the marines. Only when they had spent two weeks in each other’s company did he show a different side of him – as someone who felt he could be included in Thomas’ very short list of acquaintanceship. “Did you feel lonely? Not being in the same contingent as your mates?”

The corporal nodded slowly. “All I can tell you, desolation is the worst pain where you start to question about your own morals and everything else. That _everything else_ is dangerous, believe me.”

Thomas believed him. “And now? Now that we’re talking?”

“No,” Tozer smiled, a pretty curve of his lips. “You’re not a replacement for my missing friends, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to have met you, and that you allow me to talk to you. You’re a savior actually, this expedition doesn’t sound like a bad choice anymore.”

He felt his cheeks heating up, charmed. “Really? How did I save you?”

“Your dramatics are similar to my grandmother’s but she’s an old spitfire,” he boasted, slapping Thomas’ back when he was red with his attempt to rein in his laugh. “Actually, I have a small favor to ask of you.”

Wiping a tear at the corner of his eye, he breathed. “Go ahead.”

“I was wondering if you could teach me how to sew,” the corporal swallowed, the first time he ever looked embarrassed as he showed him the torn section of the shirt he brought with him. “I attempted to repair on my own, but I couldn’t manage to do a simple patch. The threads were loose, the kept on falling apart.”

He would never know how many attempts Tozer went through, judging from the scatters of pin holes around the tear, but Thomas was endeared all the same. “I can fix that for you—“

“—teach me instead, if you have time to spare. It’s a useful skill, do you realize? I get envious the others are able to mend their own clothes. I can’t depend on Mr. Diggle or my own mother to fix everything.”

Thomas chuckled, nodding his head, and then they were both hunched together – with Thomas directing and the corporal studiously learning a simple fold and repair, and cross-stitch, carefully using his borrowed needle from Thomas’ workbox and a thread. He was ecstatic, teaching Tozer everything he knew about needlework, and his temporary student soaked up the knowledge like a sponge. Tozer was a quick-learner, and soon he was able to restore the rip on his shirt, with pure satisfaction etched on his face.

“You may as well call me Sol, now. I know I’ve been labelled ‘Corporal Tozer’ in your head,” deep blue eyes focused at him, with a teasing glint. “Just remember not to call me Solomon, I don’t want you to remind me of my mother, she does that when she’s angry.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes a little, but shook _Sol_’s offered hand nonetheless. “Thomas, and stop calling me ‘Grandmother’ in yours.”

Sol gasped, hand against his chest, feigning insulted.

Then they burst out laughing, away from the jolly men, in this private corner of the ship.

The next morning after he went to wake and dress the captain, who was grumpy as usual before he had his first cup of coffee, Lieutenant McMurdo came and told him that Sir Ross would be joining them for breakfast. Thomas went ahead to inform Mr. Diggle then, overseeing the cook preparing the ingredients, baking and muttering to himself – gleefully attempted to annoy the living out of Thomas now that he had officially returned, but Thomas only found it even more enjoyable until Mr. Diggle gave up with a huff. And later when the food was ready, the expedition commander and the remaining two lieutenants were all thrilled to see him managing breakfast once again in the wardroom.

“How are you faring, Jopson?” Sir Ross asked as he accepted his cup of coffee, his eyes frowned with interest, scanning him up and down. “Last time I saw you, you couldn’t even walk. You look as if you hadn’t had that fall!”

“Pleasantly, sir. Dr. MacDonald was extremely patient with me for the last two weeks,” he glanced quickly at the good doctor, who warmly welcomed his thanks, and bowed his head slightly to Sir Ross, adopting a demure stance while pouring milk into Captain Crozier’s coffee.

Sir Ross cheered, raising his cup. “Oh! Coffee toast to you then, my good sir!”

“And it seems we also have Mr. Diggle to thank too, James. He has successfully plumped up my steward!”

“I think you mean he’s growing, Francis. Jopson is a dashing young man! Ah, I still remember fondly of the time when I was his age—“

“—no one wants to hear your romantic ventures, James.”

As he placed servings of steamed pudding with dried fruits and biscuits with marmalade jams, Thomas retreated to his corner and respectfully listened to the captains’ hearty banters and the lieutenants and Dr. MacDonald’s conversation about the current, changing weather. Indeed, the days had grown much cooler and the nights petrifyingly colder, and there were the occasional wet and dry spells. The topic soon changed to the progress made on the repairs of both ships. The carpenters did their best, enough to float both vessels to complete their journey to Iles Kerguelen and Van Diemen’s Land, but they would need sufficient stocks of wood and iron nails soon.

Sir Ross cleared his throat then, and called for a brief command meeting. Thomas pulled the door closed behind him, and stood sentry outside the wardroom, attentive to the discussion. He heard Sir Ross saying, “—we’ll proceed upon schedule. We’ll sail straight to Iles Kerguelen for the observations, and to Van Diemen’s Land after. We’ll resupply and repair our ships from the collision, and settle for the remaining winter there.”

“Pray that nothing crosses us on the way, the men are becoming quite uneasy.”

“Hear, hear.”

“Actually, I read a few unsatisfactory reports before we departed from Chatham.”

“Pirates, I assume?” Lieutenant McMurdo’s voice rang through. “I read the same. East India Company is having trouble with them, what with the pirates terrorizing their potential customers and merchant vessels ransacked empty. They’ve been sighted along the Malaccan Straits a few times, perhaps have harbored in Singapore. The Dutch claimed to have seen them too, a whole fleet of them, lurking too close to their settlement in Batavia and the Moluccas.”

“What of Sir Bonham’s report?”

“He only mentioned that we shouldn’t worry ourselves with uncivilized individuals, the Royal Navy is doing everything they can to suppress the pirates.”

“They better do it fast then… any sightings from Van Diemen’s Land?”

“Thrice, by two of our consigners but they were unsure if the ship they saw was from the same fleet.”

“It was alone, sir, a frigate not a Chinese junk. Fitted with propellers, most likely with steam engines, black sails but no flag risen.”

Captain Crozier asked, “Stolen?”

“No reports of stolen or missing frigates, sir.”

There was a heavy sigh, followed by a soft clink of porcelain. “Once we are close to the East Indies boundary, we shall tread to Van Diemen’s Land with extreme precaution. It is possible that we may be trudging on the pirates’ hunting routes by then. I refuse to suffer any more casualties on this expedition. Have our sailors be ready, Francis, and vigilant. I doubt they’re anywhere near Iles Kerguelen, nor in the midst of the Indian Ocean, but for safety measures. Also, remind me to mention about the whale and the fog to Sir John, he will warn the others to sail carefully.”

“Understood.”

The fog.

Bothered, Thomas recalled standing in the pocket of the ominous, static silence that the fog brought that night. The chance encounter with the whale might have been deemed as utmost irregular to the officers and the men, but Thomas thought differently. He was the only one who knew it wasn’t a whale, but something else entirely, something larger and _hungry_. Did the beast conjure the cloud to blind them? Was it able to command such tenebrous execution, far from the knowledge of man?

He would never know, until he came upon the beast again. And once he did, he wasn’t sure if it would let him live.

They reached Iles Kerguelen about two weeks later, where they surveyed and charted the unexplored, isolated islands; recorded magnetometric observations, entertained by the seals and penguins by day and huddled for warmth within the ships’ bellies by night, and the captains mapping out the stars above and documenting their examinations of the islands’ king, high and low tides. Thomas would sneak up on deck alone, a few hours after the last dogwatch bundled in his blanket and coat, when everyone else was sound asleep. He would gaze at the starry night sky, charting his own map with his memory, awed at the glitters of burning gases millions of miles away across the wide expanse. He thought to invite Sol along with him, but decided against it.

One night, his eyes followed the dots – leading him to one star, radiant and larger than the rest. He laughed quietly, fulfilled and proud of himself when he realized this might be the constellation his mother told him.

The Centaurus.

_“—it’s one of the largest constellations out there, you can’t miss it. Other than having a construct of half-man, half-horse, the Centaurus is unique, you see? It possesses two of the universe’s brightest stars. One represents its hind leg, and the other its heart, still burning warm and gentle to this day.”_

_“I read somewhere that Ovid said it might be Chiron.”_

_“Yes, you’re absolutely right, others think the same too. Do you know the story, my darling boy? No? Chiron, the old and wise, was placed among the stars for his selflessness. By accident, he was struck by Heracles’ poisoned arrow and because of his immortality, he couldn’t die and lived in unbearable pain. He forfeited his immortality then, willingly when asked by Heracles, so Prometheus could be free.”_

_“Free? Was he imprisoned?”_

_“By Zeus. Prometheus found it unjust that Zeus would ignore the sufferings of his creations, so he stole the knowledge of fire from Olympus one day and gifted it to humanity. Zeus was livid, his anger led him to sentence Prometheus to Caucasus, to be punished. But don’t think of this depressing tale when you see the Centaurus. It’s much more beautiful than that.”_

_“I shall. But have you seen it, Mum? You’ve gone that far below?”_

_“Oh, yes. I had the worst time of my life that very year, but when I saw it, everything felt brand new. And I quickly fell in love with it. The stars also brought me to your father, Thomas. He… he saved me.”_

Thomas’ contentment faltered a little.

Father.

_“Our adventures together, be it good or bad, showed me all the great charms life could and can give with him. Then he married me, and gave me you, my most beautiful treasure. And I hope that the Centaurus will lead you to yours too.”_

_“Lead me to my savior?”_

_“Your love, my dear.”_

Two months later, they grappled for dear life, battling a near-losing fight against a vicious storm that halted their journey to Van Diemen’s Land. The water towered and loomed high above them, threatening to plow their vessels and swallow them entirely, with the winds whistling sharp and slamming against their ships, and the boards trembling under intense pressure.

Thomas held on in the great cabin, fearing for the safety of the men and Captain Crozier up on deck, struggling to right Terror’s bow to penetrate and counter the storm. He peered out, shaken by the massive, uneven waves that seemed to tail behind them. But as he squinted through the twilight, he saw glimpses of grotesque shapes slipping out of the water – enormous and charcoal, like a swarm of _snakes_ sweeping and gliding past the rough seas.

He knew it was the beast.

And it had unfortunately followed them, **found **them.

There was a grumble then, loud and unpleasant, pulsing through Terror. Uttered by nothing else but this lurking, otherworldly creature. Frightened or not, Thomas searched for the now familiar auburn gems glistening in the gloom, but he couldn’t find them.

And yet, against all odds, they survived but Erebus was nowhere to be seen.

Did the beast...? 

The seas were frighteningly clear, and the worst was thought for the supposed fate of Sir Ross and the crew of Erebus.

Men onboard Terror mourned for their loss but Captain Crozier, beneath all his worries for the safety of his good friend, remained cautiously optimistic. They were only separated from one another, and they would reunite eventually. And so, Terror would continue onward alone to Van Diemen's Land as was originally planned, repair what they could and once they arrived at Hobart Town, only then would they begin to question if Sir Ross and his men had succumbed to the storm or not. 

Thomas assisted the other stewards giving out warm blankets to the soaked sailors, and he was beyond relieved to see Sol completely unscathed. The corporal noticed him looking, and flashed him a quick smile that seemed to say - _I'm all right_. But later that night, Thomas willed himself to calm his trembles and nerves, the beast could have come back for them after devouring Erebus. So he tightened his grip on the teapot, kept up his servant's blank persona as he poured two cups of hot brew for Captain Crozier and his equally drained First Lieutenant. 

“Earlier,” the captain said, looking up from his map. “Was the engine running, Archie?”

Lieutenant McMurdo, disheveled as he thanked Thomas for the tea, frowned slightly. “No, sir. I didn’t give out the orders. Frankly, I assumed it was you.”

“Hmm, how odd… but you felt it, didn’t you? Terror gained speed, faster than usual.”

“I did, actually. And there was also that strange noise, did you hear it too, sir? I feared Terror had a breach, but it wracked my mind when the men told me we sustained very few damages for such a tumultuous storm.”

The captain breathed out heavily as he located the exact position of where they currently were on the map and circled it, joining two others, writing a short note. “Another anomaly then.”

Was it really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ➼ Chapter One edited, 22/12/2019.
> 
> ➼ Dr. MacDonald was not the surgeon/assistant surgeon that served Terror throughout the Antarctic Expedition, but I thought he was a much preferable addition to this story. 
> 
> ➼ I adore Crozier and Ross' friendship, even though we don't really get to see a lot of them in the show.
> 
> ➼ Happy belated birthday to the handsome Matthew McNulty and Edward Little! He'll come up, eventually, please be patient. 
> 
> ➼ Merry early Christmas to those who are celebrating! 
> 
> ➼ Hint, hint! I made the Centaurus as somewhat symbolic, so if you have a theory or two on where 'The Kraken' may be going then you are duly warned.
> 
> ➼ Oh, and what's up with Thomas' dad?


	4. Prologue Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

“—do forgive us for settling you up here, Mr. Jopson. We genuinely assumed no one would accompany the honorable captain, ‘tis a great mistake from my part,” Mr. Andrews, Sir John Franklin’s elderly butler, profusely apologized to him as they slowly climbed up the narrow servants’ stairway.

“Mind not what I think, sir. The captain’s invitation is a bit sudden for me too,” Thomas kindly replied, understanding Mr. Andrews’ confusion in regards to his position onboard Terror. Reaching the uppermost floor, he took a few steps back to gauge his fill at the sparse, homely décor and the doors lining up the hallway.

“We were prepared to spare one of our own, you see? But your presence here is much appreciated, Mr. Jopson. None of my footmen are properly trained enough to serve such a distinguished guest.”

Chuckling a little, he replied, “My pleasure to be here then.”

As he was led to his quarters at the end of the hallway, he carefully listened to Mr. Andrews when the butler began listing out the manor’s strict set of rules that Thomas must at least adhere to throughout his stay.

“But I am willing to offer you an exception, presuming that Captain Crozier may require your company at any given hours,” the butler granted him with a smile, opening the door to Thomas’ temporary quarters. “Here we are!”

It was a warm and modest space, sheltered like his mother’s home in London. The lone window in the room rewarded him a perfect view of the sea clustered with sailing vessels, and Terror – akin to a small figurine the size of his thumb – moored safely at the dockyard, on the mend.

“Will you be having your meals with us, Mr. Jopson? Or with your fellow shipmen?”

“If it’s not too much of a bother, sir. Captain Crozier requests that I should not be going elsewhere but to Dr. MacDonald’s room because of my injury,” he awkwardly gestured his right leg, taking the moment to realize it felt somewhat numb now.

“Good lord, are you fine now? Is it still hurting?”

“No, sir, it has healed properly but the captain refuses to let me out of his sight. Perhaps, that is why he invited me along.”

Mr. Andrews huffed out a relieved sigh, chuckling as he patted his own chest. “You gave me a fright there, my boy. Well, I’ve heard nothing but many great things about Captain Crozier from my master. I trust that you are in good hands.”

“I do too, sir,” Thomas lowered his head, smiling.

“Oh, and our cook is always pleased to have another mouth to feed, don’t you worry. She will make you sure you nosh on her delicious meat pies!” the old butler chirped. “I’ll have the footmen to bring up your belongings short, Mr. Jopson,” bidding him to his privacy, closing the door behind him.

Thomas put down his satchel by the foot of the bed as he looked around his room, allowing himself the delight that he was given the luxury of a comfortable bed – sans the incessant rocking and creaking of a bomb ship. But he knew he would come to miss Terror’s lull very soon. The smell of petrichor greeted him when he swung open the window, weaved with pleasant aromas of flowers from the garden and apples and pears from the orchards. He peeked his head out to admire the glistening view of the afternoon sea and to commit every scene as far as his eyes could wander to memory.

For an English settlement far in the south corner of the world, Van Diemen’s Land was very much like London – but calmer and pastoral.

Their arrival to Hobart Town, earlier at noon, was a solemn one. The general mood amongst the crew had been nothing but worry and mourning for their Erebus brothers, but the captain and the lieutenants kept the ship’s morale skyward with a vow that Sir Ross and his men were safe and would reach Hobart Town eventually, as planned. And in the midst of the bustling activities at the docks, Sir John waited and welcomed them with open arms despite the sad news of their missing comrades. The man was thoughtful enough to prepare a stay for the crew within the settlement and persuaded the officers to join him and take temporary residence at the manor.

Needless to say – Mr. Diggle, Sol and his regiment, and a few able-seamen were to remain on Terror until the next they depart.

“For me, sleep soundly over there, why don’t you?” Sol whispered furtively, sneaking a glance over his shoulder at the busy fo’c’sle where the men were rowdy with excitement and determination to find spots of entertainment in town, as Thomas busied himself with packing his scant belongings.

“I’ll come visit you when I can. Because to be honest, I’m a bit worried you’ll lose your marbles here,” he grinned, reaching up to his overhead shelf to fetch his mother’s poetry book and Dr. MacDonald’s.

“You’re absolutely right, there’s no one here stubborn enough to keep me sane.”

“Not even Mr. Diggle?”

Sol only sent him a lopsided smile, and said, “He’s not you unfortunately, so do not forget about me.”

It was raining the morning Erebus appeared on the horizon, much to the elation of everyone involved.

Captain Crozier and Sir John’s return to the manor brought a party of pitifully drenched Sir Ross and his officers, and Dr. MacDonald was quick enough to ask the servants for tea, light the fireplace in the library and to prepare blankets and bath towels. As Thomas tended to the shivering officers and dutifully handing out dry blankets for them, he soon learned from their exchange with Captain Crozier and Sir John that after the storm, Erebus found itself misplaced with a missing quartermaster, a broken compass, still wind and no land on sight. It was truly a harrowing day for them at the thought of being lost at sea, until they chanced an encounter with a merchant vessel who helped them navigate their way toward Van Diemen’s Land.

It was all sound and soothing to quench Sir John and Terror’s worries, but it was not enough to satisfy Thomas. There must be something else that remained untold.

“Thank the Lord for sparing us all, our affairs have always been hazardous,” Sir John expressed, gratitude written loud and clear on his face. He turned to Sir Ross then, spotting the faraway gaze the young captain wore. “James? Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course. Nothing to worry about, it has been a long day,” smiling as brightly as he could.

But that was exactly what Captain Crozier did for the remaining daylight, worrying, and Thomas quietly mulling over what really happened during the storm – believing on the impression that Sir Ross knew that small fraction Thomas desired very much to understand. Later that night as he dressed the captain for dinner with the Franklins, his lieutenants and the lovely Miss Cracroft, there was a hasty knock on the door and Sir Ross, bushed and unkempt, quickly letting himself in.

“Sneaking into my bedchamber, James? What will my father say?”

“He will tell me to do whatever I please to you since he loves me so much,” Sir Ross groused, collapsing on the made bed and stretched his limbs apart, as he lazed uncaring.

Captain Crozier snorted, appraising his look in the mirror and paused as Thomas buttoned up his cufflinks. “Tell me what bothers you, friend. You have been strange since you arrived.”

But it took a moment or two before Sir Ross released a long exhale, flapping a hand before it flopped back on the comforter.

“The storm,” he began quietly as if reluctant. “It was a strange one, don’t you think? Ominous and… eerie. The rains were like curtains, concealing something from our naked eye.”

“You’ve been reading too many fictions—“

“—oh, jest me all you want, Francis. I trust my own judgment and everything that I witnessed,” the man stopped him, grumbling. “Sir John lent me your charts, you marked three anomalies there. You know exactly what I’m referring to.”

Hands on his hips, Captain Crozier veered his attention to his fellow captain. Thomas stepped away, insecure with his own presence in the room, before he decided to prepare Captain Crozier’s dinner coat and wait to be dismissed.

“Convince me then.”

Sir Ross sat up, leaning forward to plant both feet on the floor, elbows on his knees with his eyes sharp and stern. “The noise, I’m sure you’ve heard it. Some of my crew cried it sounded like a screech, inhuman growl. Perhaps like a broken trumpet droning out of the sky. And there were throbs beneath our feet, pulsating like a heartbeat. I was on the wheel when my quartermaster fell, Erebus was yanked sideways, Francis, I felt the pull. I knew the engines were inactive, and the waves! The bloody waves slithered like damn _snakes_.”

Thomas faltered, suddenly thankful that he had his back turned on both captains, continuing to brush away invisible dusts on the captain’s coat.

“James, we went through a hurricane, an unsuspected circumstance in which all of us were completely doubtful of our fate. At dusk, and what little sunlight could have deceived you. Now, I’m not saying I don’t believe you, because Terror experienced the same as Erebus. But there has to be a logical explanation to what you saw.”

“The only logical explanation to what _everyone_ onboard Erebus saw is that something gargantuan was underneath us, for the entirety of the storm. We could have succumbed to the hurricane if it wasn’t for—whatever it was,” he pressed, pointing out the window where the view of the sea was apparent. “And it is still out there.”

“And you’re saying this gargantuan sea creature kept us safe?”

“Yes, exactly! I feel it was an intelligent creature, curious, making use of the water to disguise itself.”

Captain Crozier perched against the dressing table, crossing his arms as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let us say there’s _indeed_ a sea creature, what does it want? Why did it save us when it could have easily swallowed our ships or left us to our fate?”

“There must be something onboard our ships,” Sir Ross frowned, deep in thought, biting the nail of his thumb.

“Like what?”

“Our provisions?” he suggested. “Did you bring any jewelries I didn’t know about? Oh, what about those trunks full of silly garments I kept hidden in my pantry?”

Frustration etched across Captain Crozier’s face. “If any of the lore about sea creatures are to be trusted, James, is that they crave for human flesh. We are not treasures born with silver nor gold in our bones. What are we but trespassers to them?”

Sir Ross silenced himself, perhaps relenting, running a hand through his messy locks as he sighed again.

“Join us for dinner, and sleep as long as you want after. But I am ending this tirade here, do you hear me? I will not listen to it anymore.”

Thomas wore a flat, impassive demeanor as he carried on with his duties, dined with the servants and dressed the captain for bed. But the very moment he reached upstairs and secured himself within his temporary abode, did he go back to his borrowed book – turning the pages until he settled on the index concerning cephalopods. He pondered on the curious illustrations, reading the author’s claim on the possibility of the existence of monsters dwelling underneath the sea.

One of which was the Kraken.

Camouflage.

Gargantuan.

Tentacles for arms, like snakes.

Screeching noise.

Unsettled, he opened up his mother’s poetry book and skipped to a blank page, sketching all the details of what he could remember and identify in the ocean dark, in regards to the beast.

Jagged shell.

Charcoal, rough.

A torso.

Crab-like pincers.

Bulbous head.

Three auburn gems for eyes.

Did it really save them? What did it want?

He halted, graphite breaking against the parchment paper, as he studied his own drawing. It was nothing close to what he saw, but it was still monstrous… and familiar.

What did it really want?

Both Erebus and Terror resided in Hobart for the remainder of the rainy season, and Thomas often found himself occupying most of his available hours learning whatever he could – from the settlement’s history of British whalers, brewers and merchants, adventurers and prisoners; down to Linnaeus’ book. He came to think that he might have mastered the entire volume, much to Dr. MacDonald’s surprise when he decided it was due time to return it back, and shied away when the good doctor applauded him. Perhaps the book was enough to sate his curiosity, but he lusted for more.

And the drawing of the beast in his mother’s poetry book only reminded him of his unanswered question.

What did it want?

Come October, Captain Crozier delightfully confided with him about the successful construction of yet another magnetic observatory, a good progress made possible with the help of Sir John and 200 hired convict workers. Thomas shared the captain’s thrill, happily listening to the man’s chatter.

“Now, what news do you have for me of our crew, Jopson?”

Surprised at the query, he replied. “Perhaps Lieutenant McMurdo has preferable reports to deliver to you, sir?”

“I insist, tell me what you know.”

“Well,” Thomas started, thinking back all the times he traveled from the manor to the ship with Sol notifying him of their fellow crewmates’ recent exploits. “The men are thoroughly enjoying their holidays, sir. Most were actually looking forward for the Royal Hobart Regatta, but they were sadly informed by Lieutenant Kay that we would not be able to attend said event. And so, a good number of our men are up above at Wapping.”

“Wapping? Jesus Christ.”

“Shall I go get the lieutenants for you, sir?”

“Ah, no need. I’ll be seeing them for breakfast anyway, but I have something else I would like you to do.”

“Sir?” Thomas looked up as he fastened the buttons of Captain Crozier’s sylvan-pattern vest.

“I’ve taken you from your supposed _vacation_, Jopson. And like everyone else, you doubtlessly deserve a day or two to yourself. Go and stretch your legs, take a long stroll in the gardens, purchase whatever novelties that catch your eye in the marketplace. I can fend for myself for a short while.”

“You’ve spoiled me rotten, sir,” he pulled a grateful smile at the captain’s warm offer, as he plucked the neck cloth from the dressing table. “But I’m afraid I have to decline, attending to you is my job and it will be unwise of me to leave you again.”

Captain Crozier hummed, allowing Thomas to tie and secure the cravat comfortably. “Will you fetch my pocketbook for me? There, top drawer of my study.”

Thomas did as told, passing the leather pouch before he immediately resumed to fix and neatly tuck the cravat inside the captain’s vest. He was much engrossed with his chore when Captain Crozier handed him two £20 notes – the most he ever saw in his life.

“Enjoy today and tomorrow, Jopson.”

“Captain, sir, I can’t—“

“Consider this my gift for your birthday, and that’s an order,” the captain pressed, closing Thomas’ fingers over the pound notes. “But I will need you back after your impromptu vacation. I don’t trust criminals dressing me, reformed or not.”

Thomas was absolutely horrified that he had forgotten the day of his own birth, and felt somewhat deadened with his gift. The money was too much, weighing fat and burdensome in his grip. Captain Crozier must have noticed the pinched look on his face before he could manage to quash it down, to have the renowned captain resting a hand on his shoulder. It was a great privilege and an honor to work alongside him, but this gift seemed orthodox for a lowly human like Thomas.

“You’ve been incredibly kind to me, sir. But I don’t think I’m entitled to—“

“—Jopson,” he warned.

He forced himself to correct his words, he would never win anyway. “I don’t know how I can repay you.”

Then there was a hearty chuckle. “You’re allowed to do whatever you please, Jopson, and I trust you to never stray beyond the settlement. But for a start, do buy yourself another scarf. I know you’ve lost the blue one when you fell. And also, make sure you pay a visit to the Book Society in town. Don’t think I didn’t notice that blasted _dictionary_ you borrowed from Dr. MacDonald.”

He cringed, flustering as a jolly laugh erupted from the captain.

“Learn all you can, Jopson, I encourage you to. Knowledge is a strength of its own, and they will reveal you so many great wonders and take you to places you may never expect. Perhaps, someday soon, we can trade random tidings together. But do indulge me, what book did you borrow from our doctor?”

“_Systema Naturae_ by Carl Linnaeus, sir. He allowed me to read my fill, but how did you know it was from Dr. MacDonald?”

“Have you seen our lieutenants? They never thought to read books that massive, especially by Linnaeus,” he quipped, giving Thomas one last pat on his shoulder before he turned to the mirror, assessing his appearance. “Now, run along and have fun. I can manage from here.”

“Thank you again, sir.”

Living the entirety of his young life in the slums of London taught him many things, the foremost was to be appreciative of what little he had. He cherished the captain’s gift, and was determined to save as much as he could. Now tangled in the busy marketplace in the midst of sellers, customers and patrolling British soldiers, bundled in his overcoat to keep himself warm against the still cool breeze, Thomas was mesmerized by the various selection of trades on sale. There were exotic fruits on display, perhaps peddled from nearby colonies; mouthwatering smell of barbecued meats and freshly baked bread, sour aroma of wines and spirits wafting from dozens of barrels from the breweries, and merchants and settlers attracting potential customers to purchase their stores.

Curiosity then pulled him to a small stand advertising vibrant-colored trinkets – of handmade beaded bracelets and necklaces; jars of strange eucalyptus concoctions and cures, dream catchers and smooth, wooden carvings of proud animals. The woman who managed the sales brightened when he approached, welcoming him with a cheer that complimented her mystifying gray eyes. She spoke his tongue fluently, ecstatic that he was her first customer from the outside world.

Thomas thought he should buy a charm for his mother when the vendor presented him a rough mishmash of corals and shells necklace. It was a simple yet beautiful design, and he could almost imagine the pasty colors flattering his mother’s sapphire eyes and honey-blonde hair. She would surely love it.

“She has marked you.”

He raised his head up to look at her, intending to ask whatever she meant, but he immediately noticed her gray eyes laid petrified, down his chest.

“Her ink is coursing warm through your veins, pierced from the scars that were sown to your leg,” she murmured, her tone turned somber. “Where did you cross _her_?”

“Pardon…?”

Thomas flinched when her hand shot out to clamp around his wrist, fingernails digging into his skin as she pulled him closer over her merchandise.

“You saw _her_, didn’t you? You must have awakened it from its slumber, but that’s not possible—“

He swallowed. “_Her_… do you mean the beast?”

“The beast? Yes, yes, the _beast_,” she nodded frantically, checking sideways, suddenly cautious and afraid. “What happened…? Where—? What happened to _him_? Do you know? No, no, no. Of course not, you’re here. You’re here, _you’re here_. You’re here, and he is… where is he?”

“I-I don’t know who you’re looking for.”

Her gray eyes implored him to listen and said, “Like any living being, she has a soul. She knows pain, grief… happiness. Yes, she is dangerous and godly, but she understands compassion. It required three to tame such creation… another unfortunate three now that he is gone. Now that she has found you, I beg of you. You have to succeed his place.

“You _must_.”

“Forgive me, but I d-don’t follow,” Thomas stuttered. “Replace who—“

She fiddled with the neckline of her white gown, producing a strange metal pendant hidden beneath the seams. Three auburn gems, bright and burning, reminiscent of the beast’s eyes, were molded and adorned into a curled limb of an octopus.

“I now understand why he asked me to keep it safe. Why he cried, pleading us to stay together,” she whimpered, anguish crossed her face as she held the pendant out for him to take. Thomas accepted it hesitantly, didn’t understand why he felt somewhat troubled once the pendant was placed on his palm. The weight of her words numbed him to the bones, and he found it baffling that he believed her so quickly.

She lifted her other hand up to his face, fingers trembling, ghosting down his right cheek. “Your eyes…”

“Madam, I—“

“Jopson, William.”

He froze.

“You’re William’s son.”

It was as if time had stopped still the very moment she uttered that name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ➼ List of Characters added. 
> 
> ➼ Stay home, stay safe. Wash your hands.


End file.
